March 3rd, 2024 [Location: Swaziland]

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There’s a children’s story written by a man named Max Lucado. It goes something like this:

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Once upon a time there was a village of wooden people called the Wemmicks. 

The Wemmicks would spend their days giving one another dot and star stickers. To those considered graceful, pretty, and talented, stars were given. Those deemed unfit, clumsy, and socially inapt received dots. Sometimes they would even give themselves stickers. One Wemmick named Punchinello had spent his life covered in dots, and tired of receiving so much dislike from his community, he hid himself in his house. One day, he spotted an anomaly through the window: a Wemmick without any dots… or stars! Fascinated and desperate to know her secret, he goes after her. 

“How did you do it?” he asks her, “How do you not have any stickers?” 

The Wemmick girl introduces herself as Lucia, and explains, “I just go visit Eli.” 

“Eli?” Punchinello inquires.

“Eli,” Lucia confirms, “the woodcarver. He lives on top of the hill.” She points him in the right direction. 

Punchinello takes the journey to visit Eli, and ends up learning that Eli doesn’t care about the fact that Punchinello has lots of dots. He’s Punchinello’s creator, he loves Punchinello for Punchinello– the dots and stars don’t matter to Eli. As Punchinello finishes his conversation with Eli, Eli encourages him to return tomorrow. Punchinello thanks Eli, and as he leaves, a dot falls off unbeknownst to him. 

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A very tender and profound story. You Are Special is one of our family’s favorites.

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I began a tradition on my original Race. As a crazy journaling lady, I began tracking how I spent my quiet time with the Lord. Was I reading Scripture? Was I interceding? Was I sitting in the quiet? Was I worshiping? To gain perspective on how I was spending intentional time with the Lord, I began keeping my progress on the page I entitled “Eli’s Workshop.”

It’s been about two years since I added that page to my journal. I still do it to this day.

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“What fictional character do you think you resemble the most in personality?” one of the girls of C Squad asked me. While three of us were engaged in this conversation, the rest of the squad was grabbing their Bibles and journals to end the day meeting together. 

“Oh,” I said, trying to remember a single character, “That’s a good question. Ginny Weasley?” I answered rather quickly. “Book version, of course.”

The two girls nodded their heads in agreeance as we all shuffled into our tiny living room. My amazing, fantastic, wonderful co-leader Khurry Bullard led the time talking about identity and God’s perspective of us.

“Tonight you are going to write a letter from God to you. What does He say about you? What does He want to tell you?”

This prompt was something that I found myself doing naturally when I was distraught. I would scribble my thoughts in my journal, ranting to God, writing Him the biggest list of concerns, and in turn, I would open my Bible, and as He brought Scripture to mind, I would answer my worries. You should do it. Asape. There’s so much benefit to it. 

Hiding God’s Word in our hearts is a command (Psalm 119:11), but it’s not incredibly natural for us to do. But as you begin studying Scripture and simply filling your mind with things from above (Philippians 4:8), we start to realize there are truths God speaks over us that we need to begin living in. 

And so, on this night, where all 20 of us were crammed in a living room smelling like sweat and raw chicken, we opened up our journals and began writing. 

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One hand was scribbling down truth as the other was flipping through Scripture confirming my references. In the middle of it all, I recognized just how quickly this truth was coming to mind. 

I am loved. I’m precious. Isaiah 43:1-4

I’m holy. I’m royal. I’m chosen. 1 Peter 2:9

I’m never alone. Psalm 46:7

I’m heard. I’m answered. Psalm 77:1, Psalm 86:7

I’m protected. I am safe. Psalm 118:5-10, Psalm 46:1-2

I am GOD’S. Isaiah 43, 1 Peter 2

And in the midst of writing this letter, I realized there was no doubt in my mind that these things were true: I am loved. I am precious. I am holy, royal, chosen, adopted. I’m HIS. And I believed it, as naturally as I believed there’s air to breathe and that there were chickens outside (because here you go nowhere without chickens).

I believed it. 

And then I realized…

I was going to the workshop. 

I had been going to the workshop. Consistently. 

And all my dots were gone. 

They didn’t stick anymore.

I hadn’t noticed it until now, but merely spending time with my Creator was enough to teach me who I was created to be, without anyone’s preconceived notions, without my own pressures, without the reliance of people’s praise. I had no need for stars. I had no place to store dots. And when they did stick? I knew who to seek for them to fall.

I am His, and truly, that is all I ever need to be.

I sat against the stanky fridge door, frozen in the grand realization of right identity as the rest of our time came to a close. As we dismissed, I gestured the two girls from earlier over.

“I was thinking about the fictional character question,” I began, “and I have a much better answer. Do you guys know the book You Are Special by Max Lucado?”

They nodded. I smiled.

“I’m Lucia.”